


From Your Voice Alone

by Chryselis



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Coming Untouched, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, Hair-pulling, I mean it this is teasing to the extreme, M/M, Orgasm Denial, Post-Time Skip, Teasing, Voice Kink, ferdinand that is, gently though and hubert loves it, hubert's voice is perfect for asmr, lots of dirty talk, references to embarrassing first times
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-19
Updated: 2019-10-19
Packaged: 2020-12-31 05:57:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21090830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chryselis/pseuds/Chryselis
Summary: Ferdinand has done Hubert the courtesy of revealing another weakness that can be used in both their favours, and it's up to him as always to respond to the invitation: indeed, far from oblivious, Ferdinand von Aegir’s strength lies in letting his opponents believe that the current state of affairs is born of their own doing, and Ferdinand merely a pawn in their own designs. But Hubert von Vestra knows better than that.And he intends to relish in it.





	From Your Voice Alone

**Author's Note:**

> No betas here we die like impatient fic writers finishing fic at 6am.
> 
> [Click here](https://www.dropbox.com/s/e2kwrmww1yl0gac/yourvoicealonetest.m4a?dl=0) if you want to listen to me narrate my own voice kink fic.

It started with an off-handed remark, as these things are wont to do. The titillating drop of truth in every joke, every tentative comment that Ferdinand invites Hubert to take or leave, fully aware at this stage of their relationship that no subterfuge can conceal what either of them feels. Hubert learnt with time that while he can read Ferdinand like an open book, anything he once found oblivious and at most times utterly idiotic was, like anything leaving those pursed and proper lips, more of a courtesy. 

In a slowly emptying room, following a long meeting where little more was accomplished than reigning in belligerent children engaging in petty squabbles, Hubert rises from his chair and leans down closer to a still seated Ferdinand, bowing his head politely to meet his ear and keep his words discreet and personal. Private.

“You handled this splendidly as always, my love. Your negotiations will surely save the empire unwanted hassle. And for my part a clean pair of gloves.”

While he knows Ferdinand to be particularly receptive to praise in all contexts, it has been some time since the now familiar compliments elicit quite a reaction from his lover. Ferdinand keens, craning his head back as he lets out an audible gasp in time with the shiver that runs down his spine.

“Oh, darling, do forgive me! I don’t know what came over me, we did agree to keep our behaviour proper during working hours,” comes the swift and rather unnecessary apology, though Hubert has to admit to feeling a thrill of satisfaction at the gorgeous flush blooming across the other’s cheeks. He maintains the distance, dropping his voice to barely above a whisper in an attempt to honour Edelgard’s entirely reasonable request that they reserve more obvious romantic expressions for their private quarters:

“Don’t fret. You can make it up to me later.”

Another shiver. They hang still in suspended silence for a short moment until Ferdinand stands, the feet of the heavy wooden chair scraping painfully across the cold stone floor as he exclaims louder than probably intended:

“Well, as long as you do not reserve that tone in punishment, I’m sure we can come to an arrangement!”

A daring kiss on Hubert’s cheek and Ferdinand is gone in an insultingly bright flash of red hair and billowing cape, escorted by the sound of boisterous steps on castle tile. Hubert allows himself a moment to smile before resuming his duties. Ferdinand has done him the courtesy of revealing another weakness that can be used in both their favours, and it's up to him as always to respond to the invitation: indeed, far from oblivious, Ferdinand von Aegir’s strength lies in letting his opponents believe that the current state of affairs is born of their own doing, and Ferdinand merely a pawn in their own designs. But Hubert von Vestra knows better than that. He knows better than to underestimate the brilliant, dazzling, inconspicuously dangerous pawn that appropriated his affections before feeling for someone other than Edelgard was something he knew he was capable of doing. He had also made the mistake of seeing but the pawn, the unpredictable and unreliable flaw in his schemes. Only now, long past their school years, past the worst of the war and the beginning of their emperor’s new reign, does Hubert see Ferdinand for who he really is: his one and only true king.

That is how Hubert knows to take that off-handed comment as an invitation, not an order but more of a calling, to show Ferdinand if the thrill he felt in that moment is something Hubert is capable of replicating. As always, it will require a plan.

Edelgard would raise an eyebrow at Hubert later, rolling her eyes when she has to call him away from what seems like a reverie.

\--

When a still fully clothed Hubert calls over a tired but content looking Ferdinand about to start undressing to the plush loveseat in their shared quarters on the evening of the same day, a little apprehension bristles through the hairs at the base of Hubert's freshly shaved neck. Could he be extending himself too thin? Will this be the challenge he will fail to rise to, the one time he miscalculates the outcome of a gamble? They have experienced awkward fumbles in the past of course, especially in the beginning. Yet... The thought of using his voice alone, of making Ferdinand entirely his with the lightest of touches as both a reward and punishment, even after all the scandalous and unspeakable things that no longer feel new - it holds a thrill that Hubert finds himself too weak to resist.

Ferdinand saunters over to him, the sly dog, more than aware of the swing in his hips and the bob of his long hair as he coyly runs his fingers through the contrary strands that have a tendency to pool at his shoulders, almost apologetic in his manner. He knows. They both know. So, when Ferdinand's own voice is raised barely a note above a whisper, Hubert's heart fills with the all consuming certainty of the love he shares with this unacceptably beautiful relic of a genuine noble man, leading their fingers to tangle together between them while Ferdinand asks softly:

"Are we not yet undressing for bed, darling?"

Hubert shakes his head and gives Ferdinand's hand a gentle tug, enough to encourage his lover to straddle his lap, knees planted on either side of Hubert's thighs, Ferdinand's hair cascading over a shoulder and hanging between them like the generous promise of a brighter day.

"Not yet. Would you listen to me tell you of the rest of my day?"

The request is simple, unassuming and entirely innocent in its nature. Ferdinand however, feels his breath catch in his throat, and Hubert can tell as much from the slight pucker to his lips to the subtle widening of his pupils, a hand finding rest on his arm where it grips the stiff fabric of his jacket in anticipation.

"Oh, why, of course! Tell me, dearest. I will not have it be said that Ferdinand von Aegir can't muster the patience to hear what the ever industrious Hubert von Vestra got up to in the shadows on this auspicious Tuesday."

Another courtesy. Ferdinand teases in jest, he dares Hubert to make him listen. The twinkle in his eyes, the upturn of that mouth reaching towards the freckles he so loves to trace. Despite the privacy of their surroundings, Hubert drops his voice to the tone Ferdinand warned him not to use as punishment earlier.

"Then make yourself comfortable on my shoulder," he offers, guiding the other with a firm hand on the back of his head, anchoring him in place so that when Hubert turns his head ever so little, his breath tickles the shell of Ferdinand's ear. No movement nor sound from his lover, which he takes as permission to start this new play in earnest.

"I spent most of the afternoon gathering information after our meeting, as you can imagine."

His Ferdie nods ever so slightly, receptive and still.

"I spent some time among the gardens," Hubert pauses to stroke Ferdinand's hair, breathing in and out slowly before he continues, purposefully setting a lulling rhythm, "making myself scarce until people settled for tea. There's a spot with a very satisfying dead angle, I had it set up purposefully you know. An extra hedge has been growing the past few years, and the furniture laid out for tea-time at the ideal distance for eavesdropping."

A bob of red at his side, a nod confirming that his lover is still listening. It's unsettlingly quiet though, for an interaction with Ferdinand, which makes Hubert wonder if this maybe wasn't the right tactic. Silence he can handle, but the low whisper of his own voice that hikes on sharp esses is raising even the hair on his own neck. Still, he continues:

"I couldn't help but notice that the roses were in bloom, a scarlet shade that reminds me of you after one of our trysts. But I digress, while I was listening in I overheard enough idle gossip to fill a romance novella, much to my chagrin. I do wonder how our lady Bernadetta manages to conjure up the same wild fantasies in her writing without so much socializing."

Another pause. Ferdinand has since entirely buried his face in Hubert's shoulder, at an angle where he can keep comfortably whispering to him. Hubert starts to think he's perhaps teased himself more than his darling, because the warm weight of the other's body against his chest, the thighs squeezing him in an attempt to maintain contact between them, it all serves to remind him of the closeness they share, of exactly why it's safe for them to indulge in something like this.

"Are you still with me, Ferdie?"

A pair of arms find themselves around Hubert's neck, a soft mumbled "yes" in acknowledgment.

"Good boy. Like I said, we are not quite yet ready for bed."

That's when he receives it, the confirmation of his suspicion, Ferdinand pulling himself flush to Hubert with a firm grip, where there'd first been the slightest distance between them they now find themselves chest to chest, the red head fully seated in his lap, body slack with relaxation save for the lazy hint of arousal Hubert feels pressed up against his pelvis.

Voice never growing from the whisper, his own body taught and unresponsive, Hubert changes the focus of his musings to a topic far more suited, punctuating his next words with his right hand sliding to rest on the small of Ferdinand's back, just above where the other's undershirt is tucked into the far too tight breeches the ridiculous man wears with just about everything.

"Though the way you drape yourself over me makes me wonder if you're really capable of listening. It seems to me you're already distracted."

Ferdinand groans and tenses. He wants to look up, shoot a sassy retort at Hubert, but the weight of the tension they built keeps him in place, the only answer he gives the faintest of whines.

"Perhaps this is not the most suitable position for you to pay attention."

To make his point, Hubert lifts his own hips just enough to let his lover know he's well aware of him starting to harden from the embrace. The satisfaction of it is heady, that he has done little but whisper mundane things about the day yet Ferdinand's thoughts still get away with him. With a ruffle of fabric and a careful twist, arms supporting Ferdinand at the waist, Hubert flips him around to sit with his back to him, breaking the safe hold they had on each other. He's definitely pleased they'd already angled the loveseat towards the standing body mirror in which they can both catch a reflection of Ferdinand's deliciously flustered face. He's biting his lower lip, a sign of embarrassed restraint, and Hubert parts Ferdinand's legs gently to frame the picture of the powerful rider's frame resting against his chest that he wanted to indulge in.

"Listen to me, Ferdie. Are you really so depraved that you're already thinking of my dick, when I've barely shared a word with you today?"

The spell of silence breaks and Ferdinand turns his head to hide it against Hubert's jacket, a frustrated moan escaping him. Another time, Hubert could be strict and grab his chin, force him to watch as he defiles that perfect skin, but the game today is gentle. Delicate. Punishing.

"Did you think this is what I wanted?"

It becomes more difficult for Hubert to keep his voice quiet and level, but he does, urged along by the prize he has in mind.

"Do you think it proper for a man to grow aroused over simple words that show no indication of carnal desire? Without the slightest sight of skin? Why, what filth must populate your mind for you to need so little external stimuli."

There's no silence now, only Ferdinand's laboured panting and muffled moans, strong grip digging into Hubert's thighs that will likely leave fingernail marks even through the coarse weave of his trouser fabric. He exhales right up against Ferdinand's ear in response, and there it is. The moment his lover breaks.

"H-Hubie-"

"Oh, no, we can't have this. I thought you would not have it be said that Ferdinand von Aegir can't muster the patience to hear what Hubert von Vestra got up to in the shadows during the day? Or something to that effect."

Ferdinand closes his mouth abruptly and pouts, watching himself helpless in the mirror with Hubert's chin tucked over the crook of his shoulder. A gloved hand snakes its way down to rest on Ferdinand's taught thigh and he arches, strung like the bow of an inexperienced archer whose string is about to break, head falling back against Hubert's shoulder and exposing his neck and collarbone, regretting having removed his jacket because then it wouldn't be so damned obvious that Hubert is deliberately not touching him. It hits him in that moment exactly why this teasing is getting to him, and when they make eye contact again in the mirror the thin yet somehow loving smirk on the other's face tells Ferdinand that yes, of course, Hubert knows exactly what he's doing. The whisper creeping from his ear down his spine set alight again and again, electric, like the magic he's felt before flowing through his lover's fingertips, except that this time it's sound turned to heat akin to the touch that he's so sorely missing.

"As I thought. Contain yourself, von Aegir. Or I will worry that you are enough of a slut for anyone's words to get to you like this. Perhaps that is the case."

It's becoming more and more difficult for Hubert to maintain the whisper, the slow cadence needed to wind Ferdinand so tight from nothing not entirely removed from his own sensibilities. As his dear Ferdie so plainly stated, let it not be said that Hubert von Vestra can't see a game of patience and torture to the end. It is too easy to paint Ferdinand a hussy, which is far from the entire truth of their relationship, so the drag of the following words to leave Hubert’s lips is closer to scratching an out of reach itch, necessary and entirely unsatisfactory.

“Look at yourself,” and the itch settles not only at the dip of Ferdinand’s spine, but under Hubert’s clammy skin where his gloves are now too warm, too thin, “spread like a common whore, trained to be bred by whichever cock should be so generous as to fill you.”

Hubert’s voice grates. Throat dry, tongue darting out across his lips to spread the increasingly rare resource of spit across where they’re already slightly chapped, longing. Ferdinand’s eyes are fixed on him in their reflection, and a darting glance of his lover’s down the mirror to his own parted legs is all Hubert needs to know that the game has switched. Well perhaps, this is where they were headed to begin with. The inevitable draw of Ferdinand’s inviting courtesy, of that muscular body barely concealed, distracted by sparkling crystal laughs and a tumble of sweet, spicy ginger over those trained proud shoulders. From their childhood, through painful teenage years, from the brush of a glove to the way Ferdinand rests now heavy against him. Always there, a pressure against all of Hubert’s weak points even as that they do nothing really, but oh how treacherous the thought that leads one to underestimate the power of daring to exist, brash and contrary, always challenging.

And challenge he does, his Ferdinand, when he lifts his chin higher, tilts his head closer, squirms and presses down on Hubert and shit - is he or is von Aegir doing the teasing?

“But I will not allow it.”

Hubert’s lips almost graze the shell of Ferdinand’s ear. Almost. The tension quivers, ready to break. They’re both at their limit. Never have they been so close for so long without properly touching, and the itch turns to an ache, Ferdinand reaching back to grab at Hubert’s hair when he arches again, escapes away from the taunting heat of Hubert’s body immobile against him. Hubert grabs Ferdinand by the hips and pulls him back down.

“Stay. You’ve been so good Ferdie, holding out for me like this. Prove to me you can do it. That you desire me so much that you will come at the thought of my touch. Without it.”

It’s Hubert’s turn to feel pain now, when Ferdinand tugs at the shorter hair at the back of his head and starts to grind down against him in earnest, his own dick so painfully hard that the friction of the clothes between them is too much, uncomfortable, his hardness numb from too much unaddressed longing. A groan escapes his throat and the spell of his whisper breaks, voice cracking when he next speaks because at this rate, Hubert knows he’s going to climax like he did the first time they found themselves alone after confessing to months (years) of indirect courting and Ferdinand clambered into his lap like an eager dog, kissing him so badly and enthusiastically that Hubert had almost choked on the amount of spit, embarrassingly spilling into his pants without Ferdinand knowing because deep down, he’d always wanted to be used and humiliated like this.

“By the Goddess, Ferdinand, do you see yourself? Rutting against me like a bitch? So beautiful. So wanting. I’m yours Ferdie. To kiss and fuck and fill and use and torture however you want me.”

Somehow, like they always do, they get there, Ferdinand’s thick thighs drawing him into a possessed inhuman curve over Hubert’s lap when he comes (untouched) violently, letting out cries of Hubert’s name that sound closer to threats than ecstasy, the pleasure laced with their own personal brand of tempting arsenic. Ferdinand is, despite winning the game, clearly not having it when in one swoop he’s straddling Hubert’s lap again chest to chest, resting their foreheads together while he catches his breath and shudders at the rather uncomfortable stickiness he feels in his pants.

And in the most aggravatingly courteous and utterly *Ferdinand* way he smiles, stroking Hubert’s hair where the roots are sore from his pulling, echoing the words that brought him pleasure just moments ago to do Hubert one last favour:

“By the Goddess, Hubert, do you see yourself? So gorgeous. So wanting. Hoping that I will kiss and fuck and use you however I want it.”

Hubert gulps.

“I think my dear that tonight, I want for nothing. Frankly, my day has been quite exhausting. Maybe some other time, I shall have that delightful voice of yours break when your greedy fuckhole twitches to be filled where you spread yourself for me at my feet. For now though help me undress, I rather want to wipe myself down and sleep.”

When Ferdinand stands, walks towards the mirror, and shoots Hubert an expectant look over his shoulder, Hubert naturally follows and slots into the other’s shadow where he belongs, not bothering to hide the strain and discomfort of arousal in his step, perfectly content to bask in the glory of something greater and more daring than him.

**Author's Note:**

> Come talk Ferdibert to me on twitter  @chryseliss  
Please  
My love for them consumes me  
Edit: follow-up in the works with Ferdie winding up Hubert ehehe.
> 
> ALSO PLEASE READ [THIS AMAZING FIC](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21114404) BASED ON HUBERT'S MENTION OF THEIR FIRST TIME AND FERDIE BEING A BAD MESSY KISSER IN HERE! It's exactly as I pictured and a wonderful prequel to this.


End file.
